It could be worse
by SheyRicci
Summary: Clay's not feeling well.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, a comment prompted this…and my weekend plans were cancelled, so I had a rare two-days in a row home!

* * *

The thing Sonny liked about grade-school jobs? The down time. Plenty of it and he could always find somewhere to go, something to do, and someone to do it with; either with Bravo or with any of the supporting military staff on whatever base they were staying on, no matter the country.

Tonight, they were all out; Eric, Lisa and Mandy with them. They'd had an easy day, called it quits early, went bowling, eaten dinner at a restaurant and were finishing up with drinks at a bar.

All was good.

Brock and Ray were playing darts.  
Sonny was shooting pool with some patrons from the bar.  
Trent was flirting – and that was all Jason was going to allow – with a waitress.  
Mandy and Lisa were playing a trivia game on the bars TV screens – yes, there was an English translation.  
Eric and Jason were sampling the local flavors of beer – in moderation, of course.  
And Clay? Well, he was off by himself, playing a pinball machine.

Everyone, without comment to or from one another, were keeping an eye on him, Sonny more so than usual. The kid had been quiet since they'd flown out from home base yesterday morning, had slept the whole flight. He hadn't even wanted to come out this evening, only agreeing after relentless teasing from all of them, even Eric and the girls.

"Boss?"

Jason looked up, tumbler of blue beer half-way to his lips. Eric cautiously took a sip of his, then downed the contents.

"Hey." Jason pushed the bottle of blue beer across the table. "Taste? Yeah, it looks blue, but pretty damn good. Here's a gla….."

"I don't…..feel…..so….good." Clay mumbled…..and hit the floor.

Jason and Eric simply stared. Jason put his glass down. Eric poured another glass. The girls looked over. Trent left the waitress. Sonny shouldered his pool stick. Ray missed not only the center circle, he missed – and he never missed – the whole board, the dart struck the wall and stuck. Brock didn't even notice the miss.

People were gathering, some offered suggestions, others offered help. Trent shooed everyone away.

"Someone can't hold his foreign liquor."

"No more blue beer for him."

"Awww…he up past his bed time?"

"Pansy ass."

"That can't be good."

"Damn me." Eric grabbed the bottle and stood up. "Wonder if we can get this to go."

"Call it a night guys."

Jason whistled for the girls.  
Eric went to pay the bar tab.  
Brock and Sonny played rock, paper, scissors to see who was going to help Trent – who had just lost the game to Ray – pick Clay up off the floor.

"He pukes on me, you're on dog poop duty." Brock warned Sonny before squatting down opposite Trent. "Arm and leg each? Or you want his arms, I'll take his legs?" Trent didn't answer. "Yo, talking to you! You listening?"

Trent shot him a look. A look Brock knew well. He fell silent and waited - because Trent wasn't playing. He was frowning, the back of his hand against Clay's forehead.

"Feel him." Trent said in disbelief. "He's burning up."

"What?" Brock's look clearly said he thought Trent had had a bit too much to drink, but Trent steadily stared him down so Brock extended his hand, put the back of his fingers against Clay's cheek. "He hasn't said anything about not feeling good, has he?" he questioned. Trent shook his head.

"GUYS!" Jason clapped his hands, made the round up motion. "Let's go!" he whistled when no one moved. "Hey, come on, causing a scene here, get him off the floor."

"Boss! We've got a situation." Brock stood up, Trent remained squatting next to Clay who had yet to move.

Jason frowned. Boss? From Brock? In public? Off duty? On down time? And Trent wasn't standing up, so something was wrong. "What?"

Ray leaned over Trent, saw Trent's hand on Clay's forehead, so, like any man who thought he was missing something, smacked Trent's hand away and applied his own.

"Shit." His eyes widened. "He sick? Thought you were just holding his head still."

"He hasn't said anything." Trent said. "Get some water."

"What? Goldilocks faint?" Sonny joked, smile fading when no one laughed. "He did? No shit."

Now the girls pushed in, Mandy handed Trent a glass of water, huffing when he splashed most of it Clay's face.

"I thought you meant for him to drink it." She accused.

"Can't swallow if you ain't awake." Trent slapped Clay's cheek lightly when the water didn't rouse him. "That's it kid, hey, come on."

Jason finally walked over. They all moved back to allow him access, except Trent, who was still trying to bring Clay around.

"What gives? Jason asked. "What the hell was he drinking?"

"Don't think he's drunk boss." Trent said quietly, "Spence? You with me?"

"He slept on the plane." Lisa commented. "Been quiet all day."

"He didn't say anything about not feeling well." Mandy shook her head. "Men always whine when they're sick."

"Hey. I resemble that remark." Sonny pulled a pout. "When do I whine?"

Clay blinked, raising a hand to rub his forehead. He'd never in his life worn his hair in a pony-tail atop his head, but if this is how women felt when they did so, he'd never again ask Stella to put up her hair. Mother-humper, his scalp felt like someone was trying to pull it from his head by his hair. Heck, even his eye sockets felt stretched back towards his ears.

"Ready to sit up?" someone was asking someone. Oh, him? They were talking to him? Yes, they were indeed. They were even saying his name. Okay then, no, he didn't want to sit up.

"He's groggy."

 _I am? He was. And he knew it. Just didn't know what to do about it._

"Leave your head alone."

 _What do you think I'm going to do with it? Can't remove it and set it aside. Though the way it's trying to kill me, you show me how, and I'll give it a try._

"Stay still."

 _I'm not moving! He wasn't moving. He couldn't move. His head wouldn't allow movement._

"Jesus Trent, he's burning up." Jason had a palm against Clay's forehead. "The hell?!"

 _Right, I'm in hell. I'm lying on the floor in hell. And I'm not moving. I'm just fine right here. Even if it is pretty fucking-hot-in-here._

"You think?" Trent snorted. "High temp, you ask me. Make him pass out, make his head hurt, leave him groggy."

"So, aspirin and bed?" Ray asked. "Or infirmary and the doc?"

"How do you know his head hurts?" Sonny asked. "He ain't talking."

 _I'm in the infirmary? Not hell? They don't have beds here? Oh, okay then, whatever. Just gimme something to make this fucking headache go away_.

"He keeps trying to hold it." Duh, so obvious. Trent rolled his eyes. "Sit him up."

Jason and Sonny each grabbed an arm and pulled Clay off the floor. He was able to sit on his own, pulling his splayed feet closer, raising a knee to rest his elbow on, palm against his forehead.

"Drink." Trent offered him a glass of water. "You okay?"

Clay took the glass, his hand shook but he raised it to his lips and took a drink. The water was cold, made him shiver, but brought him around enough he recognized all eight faces staring at him.

"Fuck." he lowered his head.

"Anything you want to tell us?" Sonny asked, arms crossed, "Like you know, maybe why you hit the floor?"

"My head hurts." Clay shrugged. He winced, lowering his eyes. "Hot in here."

"Shut up!" Sonny growled at Trent when he gleefully licked a finger and check-marked the air before returning his attention to Clay.

"Does your neck hurt when you bend your head forward?" Trent asked. "Try it. Yeah, good? Doesn't hurt?"

Clay nodded, then shook his head, then shrugged. Hell, he didn't know. He let Trent thumb up one eye-lid at a time.

"Feel like puking?" Trent asked.

Clay shook his head.

"Yeah, you know, anyone else, I'd send 'em home, tell 'em to take a couple aspirin, but you?" Jason blew his breath out. "You just don't do anything half-assed, do you?"

Clay merely stared at him, not comprehending what they wanted from him, or what Jason had even said. He didn't move, didn't let go of the glass, didn't hold out a hand for help standing up, didn't nod. He just sat.

"Yeah." Trent and Brock lifted him to his feet. Brock let go, taking the glass but Trent didn't, waiting to see if Clay would gain his balance, lock his knees and walk. He did, but he wavered unsteadily and when Ray reached out for him, he accepted the embrace.

Ray caught Jason's eye. This was an unexpected curve in their mission. Jason held his hands out and shrugged. Nothing he could do about it.

Eric joined them and they left the bar, splitting up in the parking lot to take separate vehicles back to base. Brock and Sonny went with Eric and the girls, Ray and Jason joined Trent to take Clay to the infirmary.

"Wish this base was ours." Ray said, he was driving, Jason shotgun, Trent and Clay in the back seat of the Humvee.

"It is." Jason argued. "Unofficially."

"Least the Brit's speak English." Trent said. "You gonna be sick?" he asked when Clay swallowed a groan.

"How's he doing?" Jason turned around to look over his shoulder. Clay was slumped in the corner against the door, head against the cool glass. Oncoming headlights and street lights didn't seem to bother him, Clay didn't even flinch. But he wasn't taking bumps well.

"Do I hafta pull over?" Ray asked, slowing down.

"Still groggy." Trent replied. "Still hot. Keep going. He's fighting it."

"I'd rather he not puke in the truck." Ray sped up.

"Fuck the truck, I'd rather he not puke on me." Trent retorted. "Just don't hit so many bumps."

"You couldn't get sick at home?" Jason sighed. "Maybe it was something he ate."

But no one in the truck believed that.

"Taking him in?" Ray asked as they waited for the security check at the gate to gain access to the base.

"I'm good." Clay said. "Just wanna lie down."

"Trent?" Jason questioned.

Trent hesitated, mulling it over. "He's not drunk boss." He finally said. "I'd get him checked out."

"You heard him." Jason told Ray. "Drop them off at the infirmary."

"Could be worse you know," Ray commented, turning left, away from barracks. "Could have the shits."

()

Trent expected the doc to draw blood from Clay and be asked a few questions. He'd agree to make sure Clay went to bed, drank plenty of fluids and got rest for the next couple of days and they'd be on their way back to the barracks. He didn't expect to get dirty looks and tut-tuts from a very grumpy doctor. Good ole Brit's.

Clay sat listlessly on a table, while the doctor himself took his pulse, blood pressure, listened to him breathe, and stuck a thermometer in his ear. Another dirty look was directed at Trent when he read it. He felt Clay's neck, behind his ears, lymph nodes, throat, looked in his ears, ordered him to open up and say 'aah'; swabbed the back of his throat with a huge-ass long Q-tip swab that made him gag.

Trent waited, watched, wondered if his gag-reflex, which they were all very familiar with, would trigger a round of puking which, so far, Clay had successfully suppressed.

It did.

A nurse was there, holding a basin before Trent could move. Least Trent thought she was a nurse - she wore fatigues. After Clay rinsed his mouth, she began to help him undress. Groggy as he was, he let her, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. Trent caught her up short.

"Whoa, hold up." He reached to remove her hand from Clay's belt. "Don't scowl at me. You don't need him undressed to draw some blood."

"He'll be much more comfortable out of those clothes." The doctor retorted, busy writing on a clipboard.

"Yeah, when he's back in quarters, sure."

"He's not going back."

"Say what?"

"He's staying here."

"Why?" Trent felt like Clay was being arrested, taken away from them, held hostage, something. And he didn't like that feeling. Not at all. "Yeah, I don't think I like that." Nope, not one bit. "No."

The doctor motioned to the nurse. "His temperature is 104.2. He's not going anywhere."

"High," Trent agreed. "But not dangerously so."

"No," the doctor allowed. "But the cause is unknown. Until we run some tests and get the results back, he's not leaving."

Trent couldn't really argue with that logic. He wanted to, but wouldn't have to. 'Cause, Jason.

"Has he been ill? Flu? Strep? A cold?" The doctor asked.

"No."

"When did he fly in?"

"Yesterday."

"Alright then, we'll have answers for you in the morning."

Trent blinked. He'd just been dismissed.

"Uh, doc," he began. "Leaving him here….letting you keep him, isn't that simple."

"I don't see the difficulty."

"You will," Trent muttered, hearing Jason enter. "Hey boss."

"What's the hold-up?" Jason walked in. "Draw blood, give him some aspirin, we'll put him to bed. Let's go."

The doctor sighed. These late night exams were a pain in the ass to begin with, and these 'elite' American Navy Seals were the worst to deal with. They simply did not like being separated from one of their own. And here was their leader.

Oh joy.

"Wants to keep him." Trent said.

"Fuck, no."

The doctor geared up for verbal battle, but his patient was sliding off the table, landing on unsteady feet. Apparently appearance of his boss prompted swift action.

"They get blood yet?" Jason asked Trent.

"No." he hesitated. "Jason, his temp is over 104."

Jason did a double take, turning to look at the doctor. "Huh."

"We'll know more in the morning." The doctor said.

"Cool." Jason said. "Hold your arm out," he told Clay, "She's gonna stick you with a needle."

Clay leaned back against the table, resting his weight on one hip. He watched her tie off a rubber strap, snap her fingers against a vein and insert a needle. His eyes widened and he looked at Trent, his expression, 'wow, the fuck?'

"She's ok," Trent told Clay. "He's out of it." He turned to Jason. "Still unsteady….."

"And….he's going down." Jason caught him, held him up. "Christ kid." Clay let his forehead rest against Jason's shoulder. His head was still doing its best to kill him. Holding it up required support and he needed his hands for balance.

"All done." The nurse said.

"Leave a number." Jason told Trent. "Let's go, I'm ready for a shower and bed."

The doctor opened his mouth to argue further then hesitated. Why waste his breath? There would be no making this man see reason. But he decided to try anyway. Manipulation and guilt, worth a try.

"He will be more comfortable here with someone to see to his care. Where he won't be left alone while we shower and go to bed." the doctor met Jason's stare. "We don't see to our own comfort first."

Ouch, Trent knew that look on his boss's face. Jason was struggling to contain both his temper and his attitude.

"Uh, boss." he murmured.

"Less we require IV meds or are coming out of anesthesia; we don't stay in the hospital." Jason snapped with a head bob. "I'm not leaving him here." and just in case the doc didn't get it the first time, added with snark. "He's not staying."

"Ibuprofen," the doctor threw a bottle at Jason who caught it one-handed. "Two every four hours. Fever comes down, every six." what a prick.

Jason pocketed the bottle and with Trent, walked Clay out.

Mmmm, the doctor sat down to write on a medical chart, he'd be seeing these men again.

()

"Sonny, up top." Jason said as they entered the barracks. "Who wants to babysit tonight?"

Sonny switched pillows on the bunks. He didn't like the top bunk, but the by the looks of Clay, the kid wouldn't be safe up there. Besides, the kid got sick and had to puke, Sonny didn't want to be beneath him.

"I will." Trent was helping Clay pull his shirt over his head. "Dunno Jace, I don't like this." He held Clay's chin, looked at his eyes, the flush on cheeks, across his nose. "No, no, leave the t-shirt on….keep the chill off your shoulders."

Brock untied Clay's laces, unbuckled his belt, helped him kick off the boots and step out of his pants, keeping a hand on him because he was unsteady and Brock didn't want him to fall over.

"Can I lay down now?" Clay asked wearily, dragging a hand through his hair. God-damn, his head hurt. "My head….I…..don't…feel so good."

"Take these." Jason shook out four tablets, got the stink-eye from Trent, put one back, raised an eyebrow questioningly and with a sigh, put back another. Two it was. "Don't chew." Jason grabbed Clay's chin. "No, don't spit them out." He scolded when Clay tongued the pills between his teeth. "Swallow." He took the glass of water back from Clay after he finally swallowed both pills.

"Head hurts." Clay told them, rubbing at both eyes with the backs of his hands. "Can I lay down now?"

"Yeah…hey…..what are you…..no! Not up there." Jason pulled him away from the two-step ladder that was used as a boost into the top bunks. "Here, you're going to sleep there." He patted the bottom mattress. "Christ alive, you make my head spin."

Clay shrugged, ducked his head and crawled into the lower bunk. He didn't say a word, turned over onto his side facing the wall and well, apparently passed out.

"What did the doc say?" Ray was back.

"He's a dumb ass." Jason shrugged it off. He had the same idea as Trent, cover Clay with a blanket. "Everyone in?" not an order to remain in, but a very strong suggestion that everyone do so.

The night had ended when Clay had hit the floor. No one said as much, and it was only going on ten o'clock, but Clay had been put to bed for the night, and someone had to babysit. Activity on the base was in full swing, campfires, drinking parties, games of volleyball, but the members of Bravo were content to remain in.

And if it was because their youngest was down, well, they'd never admit it.

"Could be worse." Ray yawned, calculated the time difference in his head between here and back home, made up his mind to text his wife. "Doc didn't want to keep him, so he can't be that sick."

Jason moved Cerberus to the foot of his bunk and laid down.

Trent wisely kept Jason's refusal to allow the doc to keep Clay to himself.

()

Trent was up at two. Clay still slept, hadn't even changed positions, but he roused when Trent gave him a shake and he willingly took two Advil, going right back to sleep.

Ray was up at six. Again, Clay roused to take the offered Advil, and went back to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Hot day here in Maryland! Happy Summer ya'll  
Again, some slight medical inconsistencies people...hope you enjoy anyway!

* * *

Day one:

Clay woke up feeling tired and sluggish. His headache had eased, but still lurked. He didn't say anything and no one asked. He showered and dressed and joined the others for breakfast where he was told, until the doctor called with test results, that Jason was grounding him.

"I'm what?" Clay asked, piece of bacon half way to his mouth, unaware talk at the table had turned to him. He was a bit disoriented, had a hard time concentrating. "What tests?" he didn't remember taking a test. What the hell were they talking about?

"Grounded." Jason repeated, surprised he was being questioned. "Problem with that?"

"Grounded?" Clay echoed. He stirred his scrambled eggs. Grounded? What? Like he was twelve? A hand was on his forehead, then his cheek. "The hell you doing?" He pulled away with a scowl. "Jesus."

"Fever's down." Trent said, picking up his knife to add jelly to his toast. "How's your head feel?"

Clay frowned, oh, he remembered that headache! Still sorta had it. "Uh, better." Wait, what fever?

"Do you remember last night?" Trent asked. "Fainting at the bar?"

"Didn't faint." Clay grumbled. "Just, hot in there."

"What do you think?" Jason asked Trent.

"Remember the infirmary?" Ray asked. "Least you're responding to ibuprofen."

Huh, no. No, Clay didn't remember anything Ray was talking about. And he hadn't taken anything for his headache. Though he was going to.

"What's on tap today?" Sonny asked, sipping coffee, staring Clay down over the rim of his mug.

"Stop staring at me." Clay sighed. "Geesch." he resisted the urge to rub his forehead. Wouldn't that just go over well.

"Staking out another village." Ray replied. "The market."

"So, another day in the sun." Brock said.

"I say, back off the Advil, see what his fever does." Trent said. "No working out today either, don't even go shooting."

"Grounded." Jason told Clay firmly. "You're with Davis."

Clay knew it was useless to argue. So he didn't. But he didn't require a babysitter and he said so.

"Oh no." Jason took delight in correcting his mistaken assumption. "Davis isn't your babysitter." He pointed to the dog. "She is."

Cerberus woofed, tail thumping the floor. Clay patted her head affectionately. Least someone was happy to spend the day with him.

()

"Hayes." Jason answered his cell. He and Brock were sitting in the back of a van, watching the comings and goings of a florist shop. Frustrated and bored. How were they supposed to identify a Russian national if he was dressed in native, civilian robes?

"It's Davis."

"What now?" Jason sighed. Really?

"Uh, Mandy had Clay sit in with her on an interrogation. You know, to translate."

"What'd she learn?" uh, yeah, kid should be okay doing nothing but sitting and talking. So, why wasn't he?

"That Clay passes out when his fever hits 104."

"Fuck." Jason thumbed his eye. "He in the infirmary?"

"Well," she hedged.

"What?" he demanded. Brock was watching him, not out the van window and Jason didn't even think to correct him.

"Cerberus won't let anyone near him." Davis said. "I mean, she will me and Mandy, but not the medics. Doc came here but I can't call her off. She won't listen to me and Eric isn't on base. Doc wants him off the floor and taken to the infirmary."

Jason turned to Brock. "Spencer's down. Can you call Cerb off over the phone?"

Brock stared at his boss like his boss was completely and utterly stupid. "She'll stand down if he can stand up." he finally managed to say.

Lisa had heard Brock. "Not happening."

"Be back in 15." Jason told her. He swiped disconnect and told the driver to head back to base. "Your dog." He told Brock who grinned. "Why me?"

"That's my girl." But his smile faded. He'd told the dog to guard, protect, but hadn't given thought she wouldn't stand down if Clay didn't remain upright. And no one had expected Clay to hit the fucking floor again. He'd been feeling better this morning.

Ray looked at his phone, surprised to see Jason ringing in. "Yeah boss, what's up?"

"On our way back to base," Jason said crisply. "Spenser was with Ellis, interpreting, passed out."

"Hit the floor again, huh? Okay, so, what then? They'll get him to the infirmary." sometimes Ray really wished his Chief wasn't an obstinate asshole. Trying to talk Jason down and bring him around to see reason was exhausting and usually useless. If he didn't want the kid under the care of some British doc in the infirmary, no one was going to make him allow it.

"Brock told the dog to guard. She won't let anyone other than Davis and Ellis near the kid and they can't carry him. The doc went to him, temp's up to 104 again."

"How do you know that if Cerberus won't let the doc near him?" oh, okay. Sure boss, use that as an excuse to return to base and check on the kid. I won't call you out on it.

"Gee Ray, I'm guessing Davis took his temperature." Jason bit out sarcastically. "Does it matter? The kid passed out again. Focus on that."

"Right, ok, no need to bite my head off," He chuckled at his own joke. "Hey, could be worse you know. The dog could have attacked. Imagine the shit we'd be in she took a chunk outta the doc."

***000***

Second day, same as the first:

"You're grounded." Jason said at breakfast.

Again, Clay had joined his team for the morning meal. "I'm fine," he responded automatically. But he didn't convince anyone. He wasn't eating, held his forehead in his palm, didn't respond to the teasing and good-natured rubbing.

"Test results came back negative." Ray pointed out. "Just a bug, most likely."

"So, it's not strep." Jason shot back. "It's something. They took more blood."

"You pass out today, stay on your feet." Sonny told Clay, ruffling his hair. "Don't go upsetting poor Cerb."

"Could be worse." Ray reached for a sweet roll. "He could be contagious."

Jason got the call around two.

***000***

Day three:

"You're grounded." Jason said at breakfast. "To barracks. Not kidding Clay, your ass better be in that bunk when we get back. You hear me?"

Clay nodded. He wasn't at all hungry. He'd gotten up and joined his team at breakfast, but hadn't bothered to get a tray. His headache was back and this time, no amount of telling himself to ignore it allowed him to pretend it wasn't killing him. He just didn't have the gumption to get up and get going. Spending the day in bed didn't sound like a bad idea at all.

He took the slice of buttered toast Trent handed him. Waved off the coffee but accepted a glass of orange juice.

"Advil holds him." Ray said.

"We back him off it, his temp spikes, he passes out." Jason argued. "Can't keep him on Advil every four hours Ray."

"And his headache comes back." Brock knew that just by looking at the kid. Pale, skin around his eyes pulled tight, forehead furrowed. Cerberus had been staying close to Clay, reluctant to leave him and that more than any symptom the kid had, more than anything the doc had to say, is what concerned Brock.

"Doc said virus, will run its course." Sonny spoke up.

"Doc is a quack." Trent scoffed. "It's no virus."

"Could be worse," Ray poured coffee into a thermos, screwed on the lid. "We good? Let's roll."

Jason got the call a little after three.

***000***

Day four:

"Jason?" Trent shook his boss awake, it wasn't yet dawn. "Jace? You awake?" he shook harder. "Wake up."

"Go away." Jason was sprawled on his stomach, didn't move his head, didn't open his visible eye. "This better be good."

"We didn't give Clay any Advil at two." Trent explained.

"And?" Jason yawned, pulled the pillow over his head. "So? Go away. Christ, it's still dark."

"We better take him in." Trent said quietly. "Fever spiked."

Jason rolled out of his bunk, pulled a pair of pants on, got most of the buttons closed on his fly, didn't bother finding socks, just pulled his hiking boots on. He didn't change his shirt.

"Could be worse." Ray mumbled sleepily. "Could be middle of the night."

"Shut the fuck up." Jason muttered.

This time, they left him in the infirmary under the doctor's care.

()

Day four: late evening.

"Any word?" Sonny asked Trent. Trent had spent time with the doctor before dinner, which was over, and they were in their barracks. No one felt like going out or mingling on base even though they'd been given free time.

"Started him on antibiotics – ah, Cipro, I think – this morning," Trent said, he rubbed his forehead. "Of course, he's the one in a hundred to throw a bad reaction to it. Doc's thinking maybe bacterial."

"Infection?" Lisa asked. "What, like meningitis?"

"It's not strep or tonsillitis. Not mono. Not an UTI. No kidney infection. No ear or sinus or upper or lower respiratory infection. Not bronchitis. Not a std."

"What the fuck is left?" Sonny demanded. "The hell Trent?"

"What are they doing for him?" Brock asked.

Trent rubbed the back of his neck. "Want to start him on Bactrim, but I don't like that. He threw an immediate reaction to Cipro, bet he will to Bactrim too."

Silence. If Trent didn't like a medication or a treatment or a course of medical action, there had to be a reason and not one member of Bravo was going to argue about it with him.

"So, you said no?" Ray questioned. "The doc agree?"

Trent shrugged. "They're flying him out to a hospital in the morning."

"It's that serious?" Lisa asked.

"He can't sustain a high fever like that Davis. And he can't keep taking Advil to control it. It's been four days. Eventually, that won't work. Ain't working as often or as long now." Trent flared. "His head is killing him, Christ, you can see it all over his face."

"Don't snap at me." Lisa snapped. "Just asking."

"You're okay with that?" Ray asked Jason who shrugged, silent. "What does Blackburn think?" another shrug, but Ray didn't believe for one second, Jason and Eric hadn't discussed it. "You're gonna hafta to talk to us about this."

"He keeps complaining his head hurts, they took x-rays, nothing shows. They don't do MRI's here." Trent paused.

"What bad reaction?" Brock asked. "Hasn't been that long, not even a day."

"Kidneys weren't flushing the medication out of his system. Left him over-medicated, loopy, at high risk for an UTI, so they took him off it. And yeah, that all happened pretty fast."

Silence.

"Could be….." Ray began.

"You finish that sentence and I will knock you the fuck out." Jason growled at Ray. "I don't want to hear it."

Cerberus jumped off the bed and padded to the door. She looked back and whuffed.

"I'm taking a walk." Jason let the dog out and followed.

()

The doctor wasn't around when Jason and Cerberus entered the infirmary. The nurse on duty eyed the dog with caution but didn't dare reprimand Jason for allowing the dog to enter and wander at will.

"Spencer?" he asked. He intended to see the kid regardless what she said, but he did have manners. Sorta.

"Yes sir," the nurse nodded, pointing with a pen through the door. "He's sleeping, would you like me to call the doctor to come in and talk to you?"

"Yeah, sure, you do that." Jason didn't care what the doctor had to say to him. He trusted Trent.

Clay stirred when Jason leaned on the bed rail. He blinked, eventually opening his eyes to look at Jason, but they remained hooded, limiting his vision, and were murky, looking through his boss, not at him.

Cerberus paced around the room, sniffing, smelling, inspecting until she was finally convinced there were no dangers lurking about. She then returned to Jason's side, went up on her hind legs, placed her front paws on the bed and rested her snout between them.

"You know they're flying you out tomorrow, right?" Jason said quietly.

Clay nodded, hoping Jason didn't expect an answer because he really had no idea what his boss was saying.

"Talked to Eric, Trent will go with you."

Clay shrugged. He didn't expect company, but wouldn't say no to it either. Least, he thought he understood what Jason had said. Maybe Jason was saying something completely different. Hell, he didn't know. He should care, but he didn't.

Cerberus whined. Jason put a hand on her back to shush her, but she nosed Clay's hand, pushing her head against his hip, her whine becoming a growl.

"Cerb." Jason chided gently.

The dog gave him a look. He swore she rolled her eyes at him. She huffed, blowing her breath out, then with a smooth, agile leap, cleared the rail and settled on the bed, ignoring Jason's command to get down.

"Dogs are not allowed in here." The doctor announced. "Especially that one," oh, he certainly recognized Cerberus. He'd chased her away more than once this day. "Remove that animal at once."

Jason bristled at both the command and the tone it was given in. Who the fuck did this putz think he was?

"How's he doing?" Jason asked, deciding to let Cerberus be just to annoy the doctor.

"His condition is beyond my….get that beast off the bed." the doctor ordered. "This instant."

Cerberus was on her feet, nudging her head under the blanket until Clay moved his arm to see what she wanted. He didn't have her ball but was too tired to tell her that. Her nose went up the short sleeve of his t-shirt.

"It is licking him." The doctor exclaimed, horrified. "The germs, the bacteria….."

"Weren't raised with dogs, were you?" Jason pushed Cerberus away from Clay's arm, but she went under Jason's hand and resumed licking. " _It_ is a she, and she's a dog, not a beast and what the hell do you have on him that she smells?" he used both hands to pull Cerberus's head away from Clay. He ordered her to the floor and after a growl and stare-off, some strong tugging on her collar, she jumped down.

"I was not. They carry fleas."

"I dare you to find a flea on this dog."

"I refuse to get that close."

Cerberus went around Jason, stuck her head between the rails and went right back to licking Clay's arm.

Jason knew the dog well enough to know if she wasn't giving up on something, there had to be a reason why. Squatting down to her level, he reached a hand through the rails to feel Clay's arm where she was licking.

The doctor shuddered, convinced Jason would pull back a stump. Putting your hand in the mouth of any dog, was asking to be bitten. Especially this dog.

"What's this?" Jason stood up, turned Clay's arm towards him. "You know about this?"

"What?" the doctor stepped forward, Cerberus growled, baring a canine and the doc glared at Jason.

"SIT!" Jason snapped his fingers. Cerberus glared at him defiantly. He wondered if he'd have to send for Brock when she finally submitted to his command and sat where she stood. She didn't give an inch though and Jason allowed her that victory. Still, her look, the way she tilted her head, the way she kept her ears pricked, clearly told Jason she thought him slow and stupid for not understanding what she was trying to tell him.

"I'll get an antiseptic wipe." The doc's nose wrinkled in distaste over the reference to dog slobber and he snapped on gloves. "All my days, dogs in the infirmary."

"This lump on his arm." Jason said impatiently. "Right here."

"Ow!" Clay snapped irritably when Jason pressed his thumb against the lump. "OW! Heeeyyy...OW!"

"Why, I say," the doctor muttered. "A lump indeed."

"Spencer? What is this?" Jason gave his a shoulder a shake. "Did you know about this?" he kept shaking him. "Clay!"

The constant shaking combined with the authoritative command were enough to rouse him. "What?" Clay scowled. "Stoppit. Lemme 'lone." he squirmed, easing away. "Don't."

"Wake up and talk to me, damn you." Jason tapped at his cheek with the back of his fingers. The doctor reached to stop him, Cerberus growled and he decided he'd rather keep his hand, so left Jason alone. Still, Jason understood the motion for what it was – a reprimand. "Clay? Hey, Spencer, come on. I want to talk to you." he backed off just a tad. "Kid, hey!"

Clay knew the voice, the tone, knew it for what it was; an order, not a request. His head hurt, he was hot, he was tired and he wanted to sleep but he knew Jason wouldn't go away until he got what he wanted. "About what?" He slurred, hitching a shoulder to wipe his cheek.

"Your arm." He squeezed the lump again, feeling its warmth against his fingers. "This." He rubbed his thumb over the nickel-size bump. "This red, hard bump on your arm, right here."

Clay yawned. He didn't like waking up. When he did, all he wanted to do was hold his head and wipe the sweat off his face. "They said…." he licked his lips. "… it'd be sore."

"Who said?"

"The doc."

"Not me!" the doctor objected, seeing the 'look of death' on Jason's face.

"What doc?" Jason asked Clay. "Don't fade on me now. What doc, Clay."

"On base."

"Here?"

"Home."

"You saw the doctor at home, when?"

"Dunno."

"Why?" Jason persisted, letting the nurse approach the bed with a glass of water and a wet cloth. "Clay, why? Clay?"

His faced bathed with the cool, wet cloth and free of sweat, Clay was a bit more with it. He opened his eyes and actually focused them on Jason. He wanted the water the nurse was offering but was reluctant to risk angering Jason by taking it.

"What? You want that? Jesus kid, you can have it." Jason stepped back, let the nurse hold the cup with a straw for Clay. "Now, why did you see the doctor at home?"

"They called me." He wanted more water, but knew it wouldn't be offered for another few minutes. Might be best, his stomach was trying to decide if it would allow the water to stay or if it wanted it evicted. "Said I needed a booster for…..dipshit? Maria?"

"You were inoculated?" the doc said. "For what?"

"Booster." Clay corrected. He stirred restlessly, breaking out into a fresh sweat, going a shade of green.

"Dipshit/diphtheria," Jason translated. "Maria/malaria."

"I'll call the doctor back in the states." The doc said. "Get his records."

Someone on med staff was going to be fired.  
Clay was going to get a beat down once he was on his feet for not telling anyone he got shots before deploying.  
Cerberus was going to get a steak.

The nurse waited with a basin, but Clay managed to keep from being sick, easing onto his side and going back to sleep.

()

Ray answered his phone, surprised Jason, 'who was out for a walk', was calling him.

"Hey, bring the dog back." Ray said. He listened, yupping and uh-huhing now and again, then hung up. "Apparently our youngest got a booster vaccination before deployment and threw a reaction." Ray told the others.

"Only Spencer," Trent shook his head. "Not surprised."

"Where's our boss?" Sonny asked.

"Buying Cerberus a steak."

"Come again?" Brock said.

"She kept licking the bump on his arm."

"That's our girl!" Trent crowed. "So, no need to fly him out tomorrow."

"No, the doc called the states, found out what the booster was for, he'll start Clay on antibiotics, mild steroid, he'll be fine in a day or two."

"Jesus, the quack nearly put the kid in kidney failure." Sonny cursed.

"Not quite that serious." Trent laughed.

"Uh, yeah." Sonny insisted. "Wrong treatment."

"Well, could have…" Ray began.

"We know!" his three teammates chorused. "It could be worse!"

***END***


End file.
